


The Battle for the Heart of (A Woman)

by clandestineClairvoyant



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: (briefly leliana), F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-19
Updated: 2015-11-19
Packaged: 2018-05-02 10:08:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5244368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clandestineClairvoyant/pseuds/clandestineClairvoyant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Josephine falls in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Battle for the Heart of (A Woman)

**Author's Note:**

> For THIS http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/15866.html?thread=60112890#t60112890 prompt on the kinkmeme. Anything involving Josephine/Barris. WHAT A CUTE RARE PAIR.
> 
> This is short because I just wanted to spit this out for nanowrimo, and also because I'm working on a million other things. Sorry I couldn't fit in dancing!  
> Also I am a rarepair god holy shit.

Josephine was a romantic.

This was true.

 

She was also a sensible woman; who wore comfortable shoes underneath her skirts when she was sitting at her desk, tucked under her chair so no one would know. Her pleated-front heels with the businesslike click would be placed inches away, ready for her to switch into at a moments notice.

While she did paperwork, she had a book under the desk, tucked into a special drawer that looked the same as all the others. But rather than hold files or letters, it was generally chocolate, or a few books.

The only one who knew was Leliana, who enjoyed slipping her particularly good books she’d enjoyed; And that odd boy, Cole, who would eat her chocolates and replace them guiltily with flowers and pieces of polished seashell he’d found out on the Storm Coast.

She wielded a stern and iron discipline in negotiations. Orlesians found her refreshing, brisk, and a no-nonsense woman who knew what she was after and didn’t stand for any middling ground; But when it called for a gentler touch, she would greet the tiny elven diplomat on the floor, at a low table, with dalish tea and pastries flaked with the most delicate of moth wings, and crickets dusted in a dark and bitter chocolate coating.

 

Josephine walked into her office, and drew to a stop.

 

On her desk, was a single rose. A splash of color on all the cream and ivory of stationary.

She hesitated, the candle on her board flickering as she left the door open, both the noise and air from the great hall causing a draft as she wavered in the entry. It was dinner time, and the noise was not inconsiderable.

It had been a long day, and her feet were sore. What she _wanted_ to do was sit at her desk, toe her shoes off, replace them with slippers, and calm down with reading missives from the embassy in Orlais. They required a certain amount of scrutiny, as the codes and secret messages located within sometimes required a second glance to parse. She had a bottle of wine, a stick of invisible ink, and all night.

What she _didn’t_ have, was any idea how the rose got on her desk.

It was fresh, she noted first, as she finally shut the door and ventured forth to inspect it. The petals were still plush, and the stem where it had been cut was still damp. It was almost torn, as if whoever had picked it hadn’t had any blade to cut with, and had simply twisted it off of the stalk the best they could. A sudden decision then. Why they left it here…

She blushed. Of _course_ it is for their Inquisitor. A message, perhaps? Their lovely Lavellan has had many a suitor come knocking, since Haramshiral, where she had made quite the spin in the social circles. She’d been small, delicate, and charming with a sharp toothed smile that dipped demurely when speaking to the many humans and nobles, a dark wine red dress to match her vallasin cutting a bloody swathe through the dance floor. The same way she would cut through the battlefield.

What they _didn’t_ know, all of these soft and powdered nobles, was how long (how very, _very,_ long) Josephine had spent with her hammering manners into the homicidal maniac that they all faithfully followed and called ‘leader’. When in Skyhold, the Inquisitor was known to spit, to snarl, and to swear with a certain surgical grace that was far from vulgar, and could, and _had_ , taken out a red Templar using a sharp rock and her teeth.

Josephine flipped through the papers on her desk, but there was nothing to indicate a note, or a letter, or a proposal of courtship. She held the rose as she did so, for some reason loathe to put it down. It smelled sweet, and when she brought it to her nose, (after furtively checking for witnesses), it smelled as sweet as it must have in the Skyhold gardens.

 

There was no note. Simply a single rose. A pink rose.

 

There was a bouquet in the corner of her office, old and beginning to show the first dusty brown signs of age, even with the enchantment in the vase. She removed them, throwing the collection of dawn lotus and crystal grace into the waste bin, before refilling the vase with fresh water from the wash basin in her own closet. It was clean and clear and still cold from the spring.

 

The rose sat on her desk the rest of the night, and she couldn’t help the faint blush or the curl of her toes in their warm slippers every time she looked up and saw it.

 

#######

 

It was days later, and the rose was still wonderfully preserved, when she received her second.

 

She was walking across the archway, heels clicking against the stone, when there was a cough.

Ser Barris, one of the Templars from Therinfall redoubt, was standing off to the side, looking slightly surprised to see her. Understandable, since it was rather earlier in the morning than was typically appropriate. But she knew Cullen wouldn’t be sleeping- Unfortunately.

 

The man pushed himself to ridiculous lengths sometimes, and she had no idea why he set such a punishing pace when he didn’t expect the same from his own men. But it was none of her business, besides the fact that she knew his hours of haunting like the back of her hand. She might as well catch him before he went out to bully the recruits.

 

“Ah, yes! Ser Barris.” Josephine offered him a small polite dip of her head and knees, a nobles curtsy, and when she straightened he looked distinctly embarrassed. Although, there was also a smile playing about his, well. Rather _handsome_ face. As if he was thinking of something funny, or something that caused him to blush in such a notable way. Apparently, there was something very riveting about her shoes today, as he couldn't seem to lift his gaze up. “A pleasure to see such a friendly face, so early in the morning.” She said, and it was. She’d been greeted by nothing but urgency this morning in her office, and it was relaxing to be outside. She hadn’t been very fast about her walk, taking her time to enjoy the fresh air and brisk mountain chill.

“Ah, yes, it is.” He looked round, as if shy, one hand coming to scratch uncertainly at his chin. But the only person present was the other guard on duty in front of Cullen’s door; A straight-faced Templar woman, who was woodenly staring straight ahead, with a rather fixed look about her mouth.

_Curious._ It almost looked as if she was trying not to laugh.

Finally, after a tense pause, Barris turned back to where Josephine was hovering uncertainly. She was trying to decide whether to go around the man or simply excuse herself.

“Surely the blessing of your company will leave me pining for a fortnight, if it comes so suddenly and unexpectedly. Like the sun rising before dawn has broken- Unexpected, and beautiful. As lovely as a painting.” He informed her gravely, and _oh._ That was a line from _'A Lavender Garden'_.

He did have rather a lovely voice.

Ser Barris’ face was rather dark with blushing, but he looked dashing and handsome and _oh again._  
He was handing her another rose.

 

She stood for a few mortifying seconds, unsure of what to do, her face oddly hot and her body strangely distant. Like she was dreaming. The rose was orange. _Like a sunrise._

There was a pointed cough from the lady Templar- Ser Cormant, _that_ was her name- that sounded very much like she was saying, _“take the damned thing”._

Josephine's hand came out, and she accepted, flushing when she remembered what the orange color meant. _Enthusiasm, and passion._

“I-“ She started, uncertain, but with a tight and fluttering feeling in her throat. _Oh,_ but he was so handsome.

“You need not accept anything, but simply know that your grace and diplomacy draws nothing but admiration and respect from myself.” He paused again, wavering, and Ser Cormant finally rolled her eyes, and elbowed him rather more sharply and unnecessarily than Josephine thought the situation called for. She thought she heard something creak. “And! I would be honored if you would accept a walk about the ramparts. Accompanied by me. And, um. Only me. And you. Together.” Another elbow, and this time he winced. “Tonight?”

“I.” She shut her mouth, and swallowed, putting her shoulders back, and lifting her chin slightly. Generations of Montilyet’s did not fight wars, seduce nobles, and (allegedly) assassinate monarchs, just for her to become a wilting flower now. She smiled, and it was shy.

 

“I would love to.”

 

#####

 

The walk was lovely.

 

He met her dressed in a Knights red, with his family crest on the brooch of his cloak. A good house, with good standing. He was a Templar, but Templars could take- She swallowed nervously, heart fluttering- _wives._ It wasn’t unheard of.

And he looked _so_ very handsome, standing nervously by the stairs. Before she drew close enough to interrupt she saw him pacing, hand thumping into one fist in a gesture she recognized amongst the soldiers as a Templar’s nervous tic- There was normally a gauntlet there, for the fist to be thrust into, or a shield to clank against.

And he was so _very_ sweet when he saw her approaching, bowing deeply, and kissing her hand.

She was wearing a nice evening gown, not too elegant for something as simple as a walk, and flat slippers that she knew accented his height nicely. A draw for a warrior, perhaps.

The shy fervor in his eyes as he took her in made her heart beat faster. “You are _such_ a sight, Messere Montilyet. Like a rose that has opened for the moonlight, in want of the suns first kiss.”

“Tell me Ser Barris, what it is you do on your long night watches outside of our Commander’s office?” She asked him with a slow smile as he stood, still blushing. “Because you are causing me to consider the fact that it is nothing but compose ridiculous epithets.’

He looked shy, and slightly embarrassed. “It is… Not so far from the mark.” It was dark, but she was sure he could see by her face that she was far from dismissive. It was… Charming. “Nora is about to strangle me, I’m sure. I test them on her, and the woman doesn’t have a single romantic bone in her body.”

“It seems like you have enough for the two of you.” Josephine commented, linking her arm into his, and taking a moment to appreciate the thickness she found in the upper arm. _Very_ charming. “I am going to assume it was you who left the rose on my desk?”

He swallowed loudly, nervously. “I hope it wasn’t too forward?”

“Not at all. It was quite nice. It added a bit of color to my office. I find it hard to visit the gardens nowadays, with all the business we are doing now with trade merchants. It is better to have the garden come to me, for certain.”

“Then I will endeavor to bring you the whole thing, piece by piece.” Ser Barris swore solemnly, and she laughed. Although, if she was being honest, a little voice that sounded suspiciously like Leliana pointed out that she in fact, had _giggled._ Mortifyingly.

 

But Ser Barris looked relieved, his arm tightening slightly as they reached the first balustrade.

 

The view was quite lovely, the moon hovering over the ocean of white receding down the mountain, with small twinkling lights in the distance of cabins or login stands still working long into the evening. The didn’t find any lull in conversation that was hard to fill, much to her relief. It was easy. Easy like the novels and books could never have predicted, or her herself could have dreamed, when she lay awake at night and thought herself silly and childish for thinking of such a fairy-tale thing to happen to _her. ___

__

__They discussed some of the merchants that had joined the Inquisition, as well as what it was like for him in the Templar order. A fine calling, and Josephine said as much, admiringly, drawing an awkward laugh and a sudden flurry of coughs. It wasn’t cold, and she’d brought a flask of brandy that kept the two of them warm long into the conversation._ _

__They discussed the gardens, and how odd it was to see Dorian and Cullen drawn deep into conversation, leaning close and unaware of the sight they made; A Templar Commander with the blonde and blue eyed complexion of a dog-lord, and the tevinter Altus, glittering and dangerous like a chandelier made of knives._ _

__She didn’t ask about Therinfall Redoubt. But instead asked about his childhood, and was treated to an excellent account of a frog hunt that ended in him breaking a wrist that had her laughing until her stomach hurt. it drew from her the story of how she broke her nose on a mirror while chasing her sister, and Ser Barris snorted rather unattractively. It drew another giggle from her, that had him grinning and trying not to laugh at the squash-faced image as she grabbed for her sore stomach._ _

__

__Two shifts of guards walked by, before Ser Barris offered to walk her back to her rooms, the two of them flushed both by the brushing of their shoulders, as well as the sweet tingle of brandy still warming her fingertips and nose. she felt victorious, as if she had conquered something as he slipped a hand down to brush against hers as they walked, and she screwed up her courage to link just two of her fingers into his. As delicate and tenuous as this new thing blooming between them._ _

__

__He kissed her with lips still damp from liquor and chilled from the night air, and asked her to call him Delrin._ _

__She decided that this feeling must be love._ _

__

__The next day there was a red rose on her desk, and it joined the other two in the vase. Three spots of color that made Leliana smile that very night, when she opened the drawer to drop a particularly good novel in over the chocolate and seashells._ _


End file.
